Dedicated to my beta Jedimaster, who is all-time awesome and gave me the idea for this fic by eating her banana with a spoon. Because we both agree, that while watching her eat a banana with a spoon i might be inclined to choking with laughter, Draco Malfoy eating a banana with a spoon is just ... hot. In a very badass and fruity kind of way.

"Potter's such a fucking saint I could burn him at the stake," Draco growled, biting viciously into his toast. Beside him, Theodore Nott rolled his blue eyes delicately ceiling-wards, and mouthed the next words along with Draco ("I mean, what is his fucking problem?") And pulled a face when Pansy muffled her giggles by stuffing a spoonful of porridge in her mouth. It really didn't do to laugh at the Slytherin Prince, especially when it was 'that time of the day'. Draco was a pain in the ass until he'd sculled at least half a litre of coffee, which the kitchen elves didn't serve until after the pancakes and waffles had disappeared.

"You know what they say," Theodore interrupted, desperate to derail the rant that Draco was building up to (which would involve slurs to Potter's lineage, including insinuations that he was part-troll, wild exaggerations of his untamable - and therefore, to Draco, unforgivable - hair, and an eventual winding down by belittling his intelligence and the size of his penis. Nobody knew how Draco knew what size Potter's penis was, and nobody was going to ask either.)

"No, Nott, I don't in fact know what they say," Draco spat, and scowled handsomely into his jam.

"They say that saints have pasts, and sinners have futures," Theodore said casually, and Draco quirked an eyebrow.

"Sinners, hey?" He mused, thin lips curving into a crooked smirk. Draco had many kinds of smirk, which he substituted for smiles. Sometimes he would leer, but not often, and only if Pansy wasn't there to remind him, in her annoying nasal voice, that leering produced wrinkles. Draco's gaze flashed down to the heavy silver ring on his left index finger, engraved with the Malfoy Family Crest; an eagle with a serpent twined around its outspread wings, and the family motto in gothic script underneath. Absolutum Dominium.

"It would be nice to have a future," he whispered, and his naked left arm burned.

"What?" Pansy asked with a frown, and Draco came back to reality with a start.

"Nothing," he snapped, and ignored the light, worried pressure of her fingertips on his palm. He pulled his hand away roughly, and scanned the table for coffee. "Damn," he muttered, when caffeine was not forthcoming, and returned to glaring at his toast, as though he could will the food into becoming coffee with the awesome power of his gaze. Enough girls had been turned to jelly by those dark grey eyes, why not toast to coffee?

"Sure you're alright?" Pansy whispered softly, and with a sigh of irritation Draco stood up roughly.

"Gotta do charms homework," he grunted, shoving his bag over his shoulder and throwing a banana into it. "See you later Pans, Nott. Others." With a casual flick of his hand, Draco stalked out of the Great Hall with his cloak flaring out impressively behind him, and rounded the deserted corridors to the library. The library wasn't his favourite place - it was cold and draughty, and the entire room had a heavy and somber air about it. Draco got slightly nervous by all those towering bookshelves, which seemed to whisper dark secrets to each other, like the trees in the great forest.

Smiling charmingly to the librarian as he swept past her - Draco was not above some subtle (and on occasion, not so subtle) butt-kissing - Draco dumped a bag in the warmest spot in the room, which was also conveniently hidden from Madam Pince's sharp eyes, and pulled out some parchment and quills. He had barely started describing the evolution of the Heat Charm incantation (while dreaming longingly of summers spent in the Caribbean with his mother, and cursing godawful English Winter Mornings) when someone attempted to sit quietly in the seat opposite him, in the process dropping several thick tomes and smashing an ink pot.

"Shit," the person said, and Draco looked up to threaten them with imprisonment if they didn't Shut Up And Piss Off - and gaped with surprise. The gaping was shortly followed by a hiss of annoyance, the hissing being a habit which all Slytherins are regrettably prone to.

"Granger, fuck off. This is my table," he snarled, and Hermione looked up from her ink splattered skirt in annoyance.

"You're awfully possessive of this table, Malfoy. What kind of depraved things have you been doing with it?" She asked, eyebrows arched mockingly. Draco's eyes widened with surprise, and then he leered.

"The same kind of depraved things that you wish I was doing with you, Granger." As Draco had known she would, Hermione scowled and her brown eyes began to darken with anger.

"I beg to differ, Malfoy. I highly doubt that this table wants you to call it a Mudblood so that it has an excuse to hex your shriveled balls off."

"Never let it be said that I ever disappointed a lady," he replied sarcastically, "Hermione Granger, you are a- "

"That is quite enough." Madam Pince's strict murmur cut through their argument, her eyes glinting behind her spectacles. "Now, either you both sit down and respect the sanctity of silence, or get reported to your Heads of Houses. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said earnestly, and Draco mumbled something that might have been an agreement, but was probably wasn't.

As Madam Pince's heels clicked their way down another aisle, Hermione sat down and pulled out a clean parchment, studiously ignoring Draco. After another fifteen minutes of silence, except for quill scratching, Draco was almost being driven crazy for want of coffee. He hungered for it, the raw primal hunger of a beast hunting for prey, though Malfoys were far too refined to be described in such an uncouth way; thus, Draco Malfoy hungered for coffee like the trembling seed buried deep in the frozen earth longs for the release of sunlight, to end its dark torment. He could not embrace the joy of another day alive without the sugary sweetness thrumming through his veins and invigorating his mind, bolstering his soul!

And that's when Hermione pulled out the coffee.

Coffee! Draco's mouth watered as the scent permeated the small alcove, his eyes locked on the silver thermal flask that Hermione had just pulled out of her bag. He almost moaned as she unscrewed the lid, and the sugary brown liquid slipped past her pursed lips. The cruelty of it all! That Granger had coffee and he didn't! Draco's hands twitched subconsciously towards the flask as he stared at it, trying to wandlessly summon it into his possession. Hermione finally seemed to notice Draco's glazed expression, but mistook the reasoning behind it.

"Yes, Malfoy, I am breaking the rules. I know you aren't meant to bring food or drink into the library, but that happens to be why I chose this table! Madam Pince can't see me without walking over first!" She hissed, hands cupped around the steaming mug. The sweet fragrance of caffeine was tantalising Draco like no amount of bared flesh had ever done, and he bit down on his lower lip as a low moan rose in his throat. Gods, this was excruciating!

"Give it to me," Draco commanded haughtily, hand held out, interrupting Hermione's babbling diatribe.

"And I really think - what? You bastard, get your own coffee!" Hermione exclaimed, and hugged the flask to her chest. Draco scowled, and his fingers edged towards his wand - but no, the wench might spill his coffee if he hexed her, and once it had been contaminated by all this nasty bookdust (Draco curled his lip contemptuously at the thought) there would be no salvaging it. Eyes narrowed, Draco suddenly lunged for his bag, and pulled out the banana as triumphantly as a classical hero posing for a vase, mythical sword in hand.

"I'll trade you!" He declared, and Hermione stared at him in bugged-eyed amazement for a heartbeat before she burst out laughing.

"A banana?" She smirked, and shook her head. "I think I'll pass, thanks all the same."

Draco waggled his eyebrow, dangling the fruit between his index fingers. "Are you sure? Look a it!" He waved the banana in front of Hermione's incredulous eyes, "You know you want it. Think of all the things you could do with this banana!"

"Things?" Hermione asked uncertainly, and then immediately wished she hadn't.

"Sure! Look at its shape! It has ideal length, thickness, hardness." Hermione's face contorted in horror, and a kind of bemused disgust.

"Piss off Malfoy, I'm trying to finish an essay." And with a dismissive flick of her hand, Hermione once again bent over her parchment and began to scribble furiously, in that neat script which never seemed to hesitate or waver. Draco gaped at her in astonishment, then clamped his mouth shut with a sharp snap of teeth. Seething silently, he slouched down in his seat and slowly peeled the banana, transfiguring Hermione's quill into a spoon with a sullen flick of his wand. A grin spread slowly across Draco's face as he looked at the banana, a grin devious enough to make even the most iron-hearted of pirates walk their own planks.

Hermione clenched her teeth as her quill morphed into a shiny silver spoon, and then soared out of her hand and across the table. She followed its arc, her glare settling on Draco's half-hearted sneer.

The way Malfoy was peeling that banana did strange things to Hermione's insides. His granite eyes were locked on her face as he removed every strip of skin from the top half of the fruit. Clutched in his hands, which Hermione suddenly noticed were quite large and manly, the half-naked banana looked slightly dirty and extremely indecent.

Draco waggled the spoon, and his eyebrows, at her before sliding the spoon slowly into the banana's soft yellow-white flesh, curving it up until a sizable portion of fruit was hanging before Hermione's surprised eyes. Draco Malfoy - Slytherin Prince, millionaire, scion of the wizarding world, heir to a veritable business empire, possible future Death Eater, irresistible playboy - eats his bananas with a spoon, she thought, in blank shock. A spoon. Clutching the handle of the spoon between forefinger and thumb, Draco waved the chunk underneath Hermione's nose, ignorant of the Gryffindor's amusement. "You could have all this," he said, voice low and smooth and charming. "I just want some real coffee, not that nasty charmed stuff ..."

Draco slipped the spoon into his mouth and slid it out slowly, leering lasciviously at Hermione, who was suddenly feeling rather more flustered than boys eating bananas tended to make her feel. But none of those boys had been Draco Malfoy, and he knew it. Draco's tongue, a sweet pink colour that made Hermione want to taste - No! Hermione lasered the alien thought, Buzz Lightyear style, before it ate the rest of her brain, determinedly being not turned on by the sight of Draco Malfoy's tongue doing unspeakable things to a spoon. Slightly discombobulated - Draco usually had his chosen witch raking her eyes covetously over his body by now - he looked at Hermione from under his eyelashes, a darker shade of blonde than the rest of his hair, and smouldered at her sexily. Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath. Draco Malfoy was sitting in front of her eating a banana, with a spoon, and it was giving her dirty thoughts. Like about what else that delectable mouth of his could be eating ...

She shook her head, quickly dislodging any tempting mental images, and swept her arm across the table to push everything into her bag. Draco, who had been reclining smugly in the chair, sat up indignantly. "Where are you going?" He demanded, seeing Scheme: Seduce Hermione Into Surrendering Her Coffee To My Masculine Wiles crash and burn like a Wronski Feint gone wrong.

Hermione thinned her lips, and avoided that all too compelling gaze. She could have just given Malfoy the coffee, continued to work on her essay in peace without nasty Slytherins eating fruit in sexy ways; but Hermione was shrewd enough to understand how a mind like Malfoy's worked, and a buried streak of Gryffindor stubbornness was ordering her to pack up and leave, coffee firmly and defiantly in hand. "I'm going to lessons, Malfoy," she said stiffly, shouldering her bag and scooping up the thermal flask before his disbelieving gaze. "If you want coffee that much, I suggest visiting the kitchens, like I did," she sniffed.

Malfoy scoffed. "Kitchens," he muttered, "Servants quarters." His eyes narrowed as Granger moved to sidestep the table; in a flash he had risen to his feet, heedless of the chair clattering to the ground behind him, and blocked her way, arms outstretched. "I want that coffee," he growled. Hermione sneered up at him and clenched the cup tighter, bag dropping to the ground as she shifted into a defensive stance, wand clutched loosely in one hand.

"Well, you're not getting it," she taunted, and Draco felt his blood boil as her eyes mocked him, flashing with stubbornness and anger. He stepped forwards, forcing her against the bookshelf, using his height to intimidate her into submission.

"Give it to me," he commanded regally, eyes flinty and cold.

Grinning cruelly, Hermione shook her head and unscrewed the flask, teasingly. Draco inhaled deeply as steam swirled out of the cup and broke gently against his face, his tense muscles loosening as the bitter fragrance hit his nostrils. He was almost embracing Granger; arms resting on the bookshelf either side of her head and his head bowed over hers as he inhaled the scent. Hermione tilted the cup back, small pink mouth closing over the rim of the mug as she drank. There was a single drop, on the corner of her mouth, as she smirked at him over the edge of the cup. Draco's eyes were frozen on her mouth, and as the smile slid off Hermione's face, he licked his lips, slowly as a cat.

Coffee. It was right there, a single perfect drop, at the corner of Granger's mouth. But someone as prestigious as Draco Malfoy would never settle for a drop; Hermione had a whole cup of the sweet elixir ...

Hermione shifted nervously as Draco continued to inspect (there really was no other word to describe the hard, calculating gaze he was piercing her with - like an art collector at an exhibition) her, and felt her ire rise. As though sensing her agitation, Malfoy leaned backwards, though the desire clouding his eyes didn't lighten.

"Grang - Hermione," he began, in a voice that sounded like it was trying to hide its desperation, "If you do not give me your coffee, all of your coffee, right now then I am going to kiss you."

Hermione gawped, staring up at the blonde Slytherin with wide-eyed disbelief. What kind of threat was that? The boy had all the power of his fearsome reputation, the cane-wielding figure of his Father never denying him a single whim, burly henchmen obeying his every demand, and he threatened her with osculation? Which, Hermione hastily reminded herself, is still quite awful. Horrible. Yes, she was extremely horrified by the idea of kissing Malfoy. The small, insistent part of her mind which was jumping around and screaming for glee did not exist. At all.

Draco stared at the girl in frustration as she continued to stare at him with a slightly puzzled frown, eyes sharp. She's probably dissecting my every word for ulterior motives, he thought in exasperation. "Thirty seconds Granger," he snapped, and groaned silently as her eyes hardened in retaliation to his order. Now she was going to go all Gryffindor on him, refuse to surrender the coffee ...

"I'm not going to do it, Malfoy," Hermione declared, in a voice frosty enough to ice cakes. "You think you're scary? I've seen things that would make even your pretty-boy hair curl." Draco rolled his eyes. Such unnecessary histrionics; Granger always did have a flair for the melodramatic. He shrugged, gaze flickering casually towards her hands, which had tightened on both her wand and the steaming flask.

"I warned you," he said softly.

Draco grabbed her wand hand and twisted it behind her head, bending her wrist until she was forced to drop the wand or break her fingers, using his superior height and weight to press her into the bookshelf. He smirked down at her, eyeing the drop of coffee adoringly. "Dirty Quidditch tactic," he explained, and then bent down to curve his head over her cheek, tongue lapping out to catch the droplet before it fell. He pressed his lips to hers, surprised at their softness, licking across first her upper lip and then her fuller lower lip, extracting every drop of caffeine that he could. Her squeaks of protest were lost in the blood which thundered through his ears, the soft blows of her fists on his chest barely noticeable.

Hermione tried not to melt into Draco's chest, instead curling her free hand into a fist and pounding into the hard muscle - but it was like knocking on a door when nobody was home. Draco barely seemed to notice, his lips continuing to mould themselves around her stubbornly unyielding mouth. He sucked on her lower lip, and when she gasped in surprise, his tongue swept hesitantly into her mouth. Hermione groaned into his mouth, and her wandless hand slid out of Draco's loosened grasp to twine through his hair as she pressed her body against him heedlessly, angling her head to better plunder the sweetness of his mouth.

"Hermione," he whispered against her lips, an involuntary moan of appreciation.

Hermione pushed him away, reality making its unwelcome appearance. Malfoy stared at her as he stumbled back, lips parted in surprise and silver-blonde hair falling in disheveled strands around his face. Hermione forced her face into an expression which didn't scream 'take me now' and tried to ignore how delicious Draco's soft, pink lips looked as they smirked up at her cockily, swollen and bruised from her administrations. "You liked it," he said smugly, and skimmed one hand lightly down her side to rest easily on her waist.

"No," Hermione denied, resisting the urge to twist into his embrace. Another hand joined the first, sliding slowly and smoothly over the curve of her shoulder, down the valley of her waist to her arse. Hermione could feel the heat of his palm burning through her thick tartan skirt.

"You like it. You like me," he insisted, and Draco felt himself harden against Hermione's thigh as her eyes flashed and blood rose into her cheeks.

"No," Hermione said, proud of how steady her voice was. Draco ground his hips slightly, his arousal undeniable, and Hermione pressed against the wall behind her, to stop herself from doing something ridiculous like grinding back. Quelling the screaming urge of her muscles to ravish the Adonis before her and have him pound her into the wall, she mustered a contemptuous look. Ignoring her blazing glare, Draco took the soft lobe of her ear in his mouth and bit gently on it, making Hermione's heart stutter as he sucked on it slowly.

"And yet," he whispered, warm breath gusting across her cheek, "You don't pull away."

Hermione stuttered out a denial as Draco brushed his lips along her jaw, unbearably cool on her overheated skin. Her hand tightened painfully on the handle of the thermal flask as she locked her joints, lest they do something mutinous like jump Draco Malfoy until his bones rattled. Draco placed a gentle, teasing kiss on Hermione's neck - and pulled away. Her eyes widened in surprise as Draco straightened his tie and swept back his hair, pale face expressionless except for a knowing tilt to his mouth, and bent down to pick up his books. Hermione's heartbeat tripped over itself as, eyes newly awakened and entirely too inclined to swoon uncritically, Draco provided her with a magnificent chance to see what she was missing - because, oh god, there was just nothing missing from that delicious ...

Draco spluttered as something drenched him, making his shirt stick to his skin and sending sticky trails of liquid dripping down his neck. He whirled around furiously, books forgotten to glare at Granger. "What the fuck?" He demanded, but Hermione just continued to smirk at him.

"Gosh, Draco, your shirt's all wet," she said blithely, as if he hadn't spoken. Eyebrows furrowed, Draco looked at the empty flask dangling from Hermione's hand, and then to the lukewarm coffee that was seeping through the cotton. Neurons began to flash, and in one fell swoop of understanding all the blood rushed from his head and plummeted enthusiastically southwards.

"You'd better help me take it off, then," he murmured huskily, grey eyes darkening.

Hermione grabbed Draco by the silk of his tie and wrenched his face down to hers. Her back thudded into the bookshelf, A Compendiary of Magical Aquatic Creatures digging awkwardly into her spine, but Draco's saturated shirt had revealed a physique that was all lean lines and hard, taut muscles and his hands were playing good cop, bad cop; one was cupped sweetly around her cheek while his tongue swept across the roof of her mouth and sent tingles rippling through her stomach, and the other had curved with determined nonchalance around the back of her thigh. Hermione swept her hands through his hair, before running them lightly down his shoulders and to the buttons on his shirt, slick with coffee.

She moaned as Draco bit down on her neck, sending curls of dizzying pleasure sparking behind her eyelids, and three buttons surrendered to her impatient fingers; then Draco swept up both her hands and pinned them behind her head, scraping his teeth over her collarbone and shrugging his shirt onto the floor. With much more agility than Hermione had possessed (He probably gets a lot of practice, she thought blearily, through a thought-scattering haze of tightly-coiling pleasure) the buttons on her shirt popped gleefully open. With a wrench, she pulled her hands free and snapped down the zipper of Draco's pants, which were delightfully easier to undo than the treacherous buttons and made everything so much more accessible.

Electricity shot along Hermione's spine as Draco sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, his mouth slick and warm around the sensitive bud. Eyes flickering open, she wrapped one hand around the throbbing heat of his cock and dragged her palm slowly down to the weeping tip. Draco bucked reflexively into her hand, squirming as Hermione smeared pre-cum over his hard length.

"Jesus ... Fucking," Draco gasped as Hermione ground her hips against his, and the friction against her bare thighs and the damp cotton of her panties sent lightning flickering up his nerves and exploding into ecstasy behind his eyes. "Not ... long," he bit out, burying his face into her shoulder to muffle a scream as his entire body began to shudder.

Hermione nodded; her eyes were half-lidded and sweat glistened on her cheekbones, curls sticking damply to her neck. Feeling his cock give an appreciative shudder in response to the sight, Draco hooked a lazy finger around the waistband of her knickers and pulled them down to her knees, nudging her knees apart until the wet flesh of her opening was visible. Bending down to his knees, Draco attacked her entrance with his tongue. Hermione clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream as his tongue circled her nub, licking playfully along the wet muscle. Her hands fisted in his hair as Draco lapped at her clit, stroking her into a point of arousal equal to his own until she was mewling and writhing beneath him.

Draco curled one finger inside her, and Hermione's legs collapsed as heat exploded through her body and burned along her synapses. "Draco," she howled, any thought of Madam Pince or a student walking in cast into the hazy mush of discarded reality. With the Slytherin already supporting her weight, Hermione wrapped her legs around Draco's hips, skirt hiked up to her waist. His cock nudged hesitantly at her entrance, and for a moment Hermione and Draco stared at each other, panting and made thoughtless by lust. Then his hard length slid into her with one smooth thrust, and Hermione felt a scream claw its way up her throat as she grabbed onto the bookshelf for support. Draco began to pound in and out of her, and Hermione rolled her hips as the blonde thrust back in.

The feeling of her wet muscles, unbearably tight and hot around his cock, convulsing with the movement of her hips was too much; Draco's eyes rolled back in his head as his body convulsed with his climax, limbs shuddering with intense ecstasy, electricity streaking along his nerves and burning away every sensation but the feeling of Hermione's skin, damp against his. He felt Granger clench around him as she reached her own climax, and he leaned his forehead against hers, panting heavily. When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him, pupils wide and surprised.

"Didn't think I would be that good, Granger?" He asked, still breathless. He started as her lips brushed against his, tasting of salt and coffee. Her arms were folded loosely around his neck, breasts flush against his chest, and he felt his spent member began to swell again.

"I knew it," she said triumphantly, grinning against his mouth, "I fucking knew it. Gryffindors last longer than Slytherins. I knew it."

this is my first smutty fic, so please review! and not to tell me about all my gaping plot holes, because i will laugh at you. then cry, because you would be right. i am a plot hole demon. but please review anyway!

~ Eicklehart